


You're a Keen One, Mr. Scratch

by The28thAurora



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Because duh it's Lucifer, Christmas fic, Comedy Duo Deckerstar, Crack Treated Seriously, Devoted Deckerstar, Everything is Beautiful and Some Things Will Hurt, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Holiday hijinks, Humorous Fluff, Humorous smut, Indifferent about Jesus, Inspired by How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Inspired by the Nightmare Before Christmas, Lucifer Saves Christmas, Lucifer does not like Christmas, Lucifer: LA's resident Grinch, Many bawdy Christmas jokes, Mature rating because strip tease, Maybe a hint of Home Alone inspiration, Not a fan of the holiday flipping him off, Or spy story inspiration, Playful Deckerstar, Rom-Com Fic, Rude Christmas Jokes, Rude Jokes, Sexual Christmas Puns, Song fic that grew into an unstoppable beautiful monster, Strip Tease, Suggestion of smut, The mall as the epicenter of everything bad about Christmas, fluff and crack i guess, like so many, smut light, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The28thAurora/pseuds/The28thAurora
Summary: T'was the Nightmare Before Christmas – oh wait, sorry, wrong storyThis one's a little less about dark whimsy and holiday gloryThe story which you are about to read beginsWhen the homesick Devil departs from his city of sinFor it had simply been far, far too long,Since Lucifer had held the woman he loved in his armsUnlucky for him, his timing was poorFor the holiday season had come to Earth, once moreBut even his unending hatred for the garish holiday is swiftly neglectedWhen his love, Chloe Decker, confesses to feeling sad and rejectedDan, her ex-husband, was proving to be a hefty bother,Since at Christmastime, he'd have custody of her daughterAnd Christmas without family, to Chloe, feels all wrongThis year she'll be singing a sad Christmas songAnd that just won't do, the Devil can't help it!To see his love heartbroken leaves him feeling dejected!So read on, dear viewers, and learn how the Devil tackled the task,Of managing some mischief, and bringing Christmas joy back!
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Trixie Espinoza, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 24
Kudos: 60





	1. Longing That I've Never Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'was a long time ago, longer now than it seems  
> Since Lucifer had laid eyes on the love of his dreams  
> But the story which you intend to read  
> Began when he returned to Los Angeles
> 
> Now you've probably wondering, “How he could do such a thing?  
> “Leave Hell unattended while he parties and sings?”  
> But fear not, for he'd trained a deputy to sit on the throne  
> So he could hop up to Earth, see his love and his home

“How long would you say it's been, Azazel?” Lucifer sighed one particularly dull, gray afternoon.

“Sorry, sire?” asked the Fallen Angel, with wavy, pitch-black hair and skin the color of coffee-con-leche, looking up from his New Arrival files.

“Just – give me a hand, I'm dreadful with figures.” The Devil massaged the bridge of his nose as he leaned on the wrought-iron railing of his Infernal palace's balcony.

He'd been doing that a lot lately, trying to rub away headaches or ease persistent neck and back pain. Belios, his normally phenomenal masseuse, hadn't been much help.

“A thousand years here is – what? Eight Earth-months?”

“Closer to six, I believe. Why do you ask, cousin?” Azazel asked, silver-gray wings twitching pensively as he tucked the stack of parchment files under his arm. Lucifer's eyes were dark again, as cloudy as the unnatural, Infernal sky. When he wasn't drowning himself in work, this was the King of Hell's default mood these days.

He'd been prone to lashing out at times, when he really sunk deep, deep down into his thoughts.

In eons past, Gromos said it had been an act. A ploy to keep the Horde in line. These days, the anger was sudden, unpredictable. That alone indicated to the oldest Demon in Hell that his sire's anger was genuine now.

Something had changed. Something inscrutably vast.

“...Curiosity,” the Devil finally muttered out, sourly. Azazel frowned, doubtful, though he knew his brother's oath of truth well.

“Only in minute quantities, I would wager-”

“Must you have me speak of it?!” Lucifer bit out, eyes turning a guttering shade of crimson as he whipped around to face his deputy-in-training “Can't you just leave well enough alone?!”

Azazel made a snap decision. Nothing would change if he stayed silent. They would only stay the same amount of dreadful and melancholy. While the days spent organizing papers and helping guilt-laden souls achieve Redemption were important, this might be more crucial still.

So he spoke.

“I am not just one of your Demon guards, cousin. I am a Celestial, like you. My Fall matters not in this regard. You can hide your anger and pain from them all. But not from me – not from kin.”

Lucifer gripped the balcony's railing with white knuckles. The metal slowly started to twist under his grasp.

“I am made for more than simply following. You, of all people, should know that.” Boldly, the Angel of War stepped up beside him. “I am not here to judge, cousin. I am here to work, at your request, and I am here to listen, as is my personal prerogative. Please, do not wrestle with what pains you alone.”

His hand fell on his cousin's shoulder, and Lucifer's anger seemed to flee from him. His deeply furrowed brow raised and became pinched with despair. His shoulders sagged and he sighed, knowing that the jig was up.

“You see right through me, my second,” Lucifer murmured, staring out into space at some meaningless fixed point. “Things haven't been the same since I've returned. This job, while always distasteful and difficult, used to be bearable. But now...”

The Devil sighed and turned from the window, retreating inside to his lush apartments, past decadent velvet and leather furniture. He took refuge behind the polished oak-wood bar, and poured himself the stiffest drink he could find – a fiery three-malt Bourbon.

“You know a thing or two about life on Earth, cousin. You've had a taste of the human experience, yes?”

“A bit, but that was quite a long time ago, and not nearly so thorough an experience as yours, sire,” Azazel said, in his low, reassuring bass voice. “I spent only 30 years on Earth, and then was promptly banished to the Pit here after I Fell for mistakenly introducing humanity to the concepts of weapons and warfare. You've visited for much longer – albeit on-and-off. And though Fallen kin we may be, we are different Celestials, you and I; we're bound to see humanity differently.”

Azazel drank the shot he was offered in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste and burning sensation in his throat while Lucifer mulled over his cousin's sage words.

“As usual, it would seem you are correct, to an irksome degree.” Azazel smiled, the expression only hinting at a playful smirk.

“You wouldn't have chosen me from all the Fallen in the Pit as your apprentice if I hadn't been at least a little bit cheeky.” Lucifer groaned in annoyance, but he had to laugh too.

“Just the same with my Detective! Five years ago, I would have never thought I'd go for such an outwardly rule-abiding, up-tight character. But the secret mischievous side she has...”

He shook his head affectionately, grin gleeful, if only for a brief moment before it dissolved into melancholy again. One could almost see the veneer of King of Hell fall away when Lucifer brought up the most prominent person from his most recent vacation above. Azazel's curiosity had been peaked for a while, but he hadn't dare voice his question while he still didn't know the content of the King's character. Now, he decided to take the leap.

“You keep mentioning this human friend, cousin, yet you've been scant on details. Who is she? What's so particular about her that you seem to miss her so?”

For one dreadful, terrifying moment, Azazel thought he'd gone too far. He froze under the Devil's dark gaze. But Lucifer was in a sharing mood, a commiserating mood, and he'd known Azazel was a fine choice to become his apprentice, and eventually, Hell's next King, not just because of his humor. He was also unusually compassionate for a Celestial.

So the Devil himself did something inordinately out of character. He confessed.

“I went to L.A. this time brimming with more than mere curiosity. Something was pressing me on – a barb, a thorn, was pricking me. The longer I stayed, the more that persistent pain dug into me, and opened a deeper wound. My therapist claims, I was looking for something...a desire that could not be satisfied, at least, not by my typical means.” Lucifer sighed, letting the tide of words surge forth.

“I was looking for a home. I was searching for a place and a sense of belonging that I had never been able to find, in all my Celestial life. You have to understand though, cousin, it was more than simple wanting.” Azazel nodded, letting Lucifer's words sink in deep.

“I was longing for it, _starved_ for it. And – hah – against all belief, I found that sense of belonging. Within L.A. sure, within the LAPD specifically, but more so in the company I found there, in the bonds with others I repaired and reinvented, like with Amenadiel and Mazikeen, and ones I forged: Dr. Linda, Ms. Lopez, even Detective Douche. And especially with Chloe.”

His gaze grew distant, both sad and sweet, as if recalling a far-off, happy memory, golden years that had now faded to gray.

“She sees me, understands me as no other person or entity ever has...she's incredible...” Lucifer said, giving Azazel a brief, watery smile. The pieces clicked into place in the younger angel's head.

“...And you cleaved yourself from her, from this woman who you care for and who cares for you so deeply to come back here to quell the insurrection – _cousin_ -”

“I. _had._ to keep her safe.”

The certainty behind the Devil's words, far more than the strength, was what knocked the breath from Azazel's lungs.

“A world without her, because I hadn't done my job – I can't, wouldn't-” He stepped out from behind the bar and paced with long, anxious strides, smoothing back his hair aggressively. When his agitation ran dry, his pacing ceased, and he huffed out a long, strained breath. He spoke at just above a whisper.

“A life without Chloe wouldn't be worth living...it would be meaningless...empty...”

It was a gargantuan task in it of itself to believe the Devil could be in love. A difficulty greatly eased by Azazel's false mental picture of the Horde's Master – compiled based on stories and hearsay alone, gathered in his time in the deep, dark Pit – being gradually torn to shreds and rebuilt in the months, years, and centuries spent working with his sire. But still, a lofty task.

The ultimate goal of the questions he was about to pose? That – that was another matter entirely.

“My sire,” Azazel began slowly, leaving his empty glass at the bar and approaching his sullen master “In your personal opinion, was I able to place the last batch of New Arrivals in fitting Hell loops?” The Devil turned around to face him, confused.

“You know I already said you did-”

“And the Redemption program – the kinks have been worked out? A state of stability has been achieved?”

“Quite. And your ability to distinguish true prisoners from guilt-trapped ones has been improving daily-”

“And the Horde, master, have they come back in line? And was my help with quelling the last minor rebellion acceptable?” Lucifer sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“I suppose so...though it is always difficult to tell with the most unruly demons. And yes, quite clever turning Putro against Cain and making your work easier. But where are you going with this, Azazel?”

Azazel huffed out a nervous breath.

“I'm not saying I'm ready, sire-”

“But do you think you are?”

“No.”

Lucifer's eyebrows raised up his hairline in surprise. His second spoke the truth.

“But I think I've learned enough to be able to take on...a trial run, shall we say?”

“A trial run? Whatever f-”

“So you can pop up, and visit your Detective.” The King of Hell blinked wildly at his apprentice.

“No. Out of the question.”

“But sire-”

“No! I'm not leaving a half-trained deputy in charge of the whole Infernal Horde!” Azazel growled, a guttural sound that reminded Lucifer instantly that the Celestial before him was partly-demonic, just like him.

“ _Cousin! Are you so blinded by your own stubbornness that you can't see that you're already suffering?!_ ” Azazel yelled, the sound low and roiling. Lucifer was gobsmacked.

“...What?”

The Angel of War groaned, massively.

“'A life without her would be empty, meaningless.' Wake up, cousin! You're already living that life!!”

Lucifer stood stock-still. It was several long minutes before either spoke. The Devil barely even blinked, his breaths uneven, inconsistent.

“...Six months is...an awfully long time, cousin. For humans, at least.”

“Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Lucifer! That's just fear talking!” The Devil looked as if he'd just been slapped by his deputy. Azazel, not unlike Amenadiel, avoided swearing whenever he could. “Do you honestly think she would have moved and forgotten you in half a year?”

Lucifer sighed, the sound devolving into a groan, and began to pace around his swanky suite once more. After nearly wearing a hole through the wine-colored carpet, he addressed his second again.

“Alright, just answer me this – could you smite a demon if things really get out of hand?”

Azazel's wings gave an almighty _flap_ and he was soaring over his sire's head, across the room, and perching on the balcony's railing in a flash. He scanned the labyrinth's rows with piercing dark eyes, rooting through each basalt column trench methodically. Eventually, his eyes alighted on his target.

An ancient, shriveled, hard-of-hearing demon, that could just barely handle his job of guarding a low-level sinner. As good as any a soulless creature to put out of its misery.

Taking aim with his right hand, Azazel shot a bolt of searing lightning from the center of his palm. The demon caught sight of the blinding spark from the corner of his eye a moment before collision.

A millisecond later, the creature was a measly pile of dust, blown away by the labyrinth's frigid wind.

“Your verdict, sire?” Azazel said, hopping down from the railing and fixing the cuffs of his ivory button-down, pleased.

Lucifer was tearing about the room, collecting and sorting files at near light-speed. The piles of documents became teetering towers before the rapid movement in the room stilled, and the Devil, no longer a blur, turned to face his deputy and clapped his hands together.

“Right – files on the left are in need of Hell-loop reassessment, files on the right are all the New Arrivals I could find that we haven't already placed, and the middle pile is those I've deemed acceptable for Redemption review. That's at least three centuries of work, right?”

“I – uh – uuuuummm...”

“ _Brilliant_ , so, you can expect to see me around then, barring any unforeseen emergencies. After that check-up though, you'll be entirely on your own from then on – provided the Horde hasn't decided to eat you alive. Best of luck, Azazel! Not that you'll need it!”

And like, well, a bat out of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar took off, a blinding silver arrow shooting up into the slate gray clouds, punching a hole through them, a glimmer of sunlight filtering down onto the Infernal kingdom for a brief moment before the clouds swirled shut again.

And though Azazel was not like his sire, throwing around crass language willy-nilly, all of Hell who was still awake on that Damned Night could hear the thunderous curse aimed at the Devil the Angel of War let rip from his throat.


	2. Warmer in Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The happy reunion brings much tears and much joy,  
> And leaves the Devil himself feeling like a gleeful little boy!  
> For nothing warms his heart quite like his sweetheart, the Detective  
> Who gave him her trust and her heart, when by the world, he felt neglected  
> To see him again brings Chloe such bliss,  
> She seals his home-coming with the happiest kiss

It was cold.

He'd forgotten what that felt like. It was above freezing, but the bite of the cold air on his face nearly brought him to tears.

Gliding over the familiar haze of L.A.'s night-life again set Lucifer's heart beating at a healthy staccato.

Turning tail on the urban sector and heading for the suburbs set his heart truly racing.

By the time he'd landed on Chloe's street and started walking towards her home, he was having full-on heart palpitations.

Standing on her doorstep, he could feel the sweat beginning to chill his feverish brow, hear only the _pounding_ of his pulse in his ears, and could no longer ignore the slight tremors that occasionally coursed through his legs.

He'd considered flowers. He'd considered sweets and exquisite jewelry and extravagant gifts of all sorts in the course of his centuries-long wait in Hell, spinning his wheels, trying to think of the perfect reunion. But every material, typical idea had fallen flat.

By Lucifer's shrewd, obsessive calculations, and endless planning, if Chloe was angry with him, the only thing that could stay that anger long enough to get her to listen was genuflecting before her, and begging her to listen.

He could only hope it wouldn't come to that – that reuniting with her might not be such a difficult experience.

But still, his roiling, frothing nerves wouldn't leave his frantic heart alone.

His stubborn will eventually overpowered the nerves. He twisted the knob and forced her front door open, the lock _clicking_ open under the attentions of Hell's Chief Warden.

The house was quiet, not silent. The building still seeming to breath or rummage with activity. 10:30PM, claimed his Rolex. Maybe the Detective would still be awake, but not her off-spring? Difficult to say. Regardless, he entered slowly and carefully, as if the floorboards might betray his presence without reason or warning.

He wandered down the hall, into the kitchen and paused. Chloe Decker, dressed in checked blue lounge pants and a loose pajama top, blond hair tugged back in an efficient, neat ponytail, sat examining pictures of evidence and case files under a desk lamp. The sight of her chewing her bottom lip in thought in the half-light was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

At that moment, she threw down her pencil and groaned with frustration, pushing herself away from the desk, rubbing her temples irritably.

Nothing to be done. Better to announce himself than give her a heart attack.

He knocked lightly on the kitchen counter.

She spotted him in her periphery, gasped, jumped out her chair, and spun around to face him, her wayward elbow knocking the adjustable lamp to the floor in the process.

Chloe stared at him for a good, long minute, blinking repeatedly.

“...Hello, Detective,” Lucifer breathed out, hesitantly. Her attention was caught on him and the toppled lamp, her gaze darting between them. Hardly daring to take her eyes off of him, she reached down backwards to grasp the lamp's arm and set it back in its place. She adjusted its head, shining a direct spotlight on the Devil.

He grimaced, squinting and holding up a hand to shield his eyes.

“You're not hallucinating, Detective. I'm really here,”

She gawked, unable to form her thoughts into a cohesive sentence, stepping closer to him all the while.

“I – how – when – but you said – I thought I'd never see you again!” Chloe exclaimed, voice high and thin.

“Neither did I you, Detective. It's only by a stroke of luck and centuries of work down in Hell that I was able to manage coming back at all.”

Chloe started, brows plunging into a frown.

“What do you mean, centuries? It's been six months and two days!” It was a peculiar sensation, his heart simultaneously cracking at the edges and warming brilliantly like a coal-powered fire.

“Time works a bit differently down in Hell than here on Earth; it passes much faster there. I'll explain the particulars of scale another time but, more to the point – you kept track?”

Chloe huffed, blinking in bemusement.

“Of course I did. I really tried not to, tried convince myself that I wasn't counting the days, but...” He gasped out a watery laugh.

“It was 742 years and 5 months down in Hell, for me...” Chloe's hand came up to cover her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Lucifer...I'm so sorry...” He started.

“You're – apologizing to me?! Chloe, I was prepared to get down _on my knees_ to beg for your forgiveness for leaving you here alone!”

“But you didn't have a choice! As much as I hated seeing you go, there's no telling what the demons might have done. You had to go...exact justice,” she said, gesticulating wildly with her hands. “It's your job – a rotten, awful one but someone has to do it...”

“And now I have a well-trained deputy performing my duties down there in my stead,” Lucifer said, smiling. She gaped in awe.

“ _Really?_ Who?”

“Fallen Celestial, much like myself. Azazel, taught humanity how to make weapons? Maybe you've heard of him?” Chloe shook her head, smile starting to grow.

“You know I'm a borderline atheist, Lucifer.” He smiled, eyes glowing golden with affection.

“I know. I'll tell you all about him sometime. I'll have to take a brief trip in about two months, to check on him and make sure the place hasn't fallen to pieces, but, otherwise...I'm here to stay...”

Chloe's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“...Stay? You – you really can...” She laughed in elation, clamping her hand over her mouth to quiet the sound. “It sounds too good to be true...” she murmured, and the sound of her quiet joy made Lucifer's stomach flip warmly.

“Wait...” Chloe muttered, joy fleeing from her expression “Too good to be true...is this a trick? Is it really you?” She scoffed, suspicious and frustrated. “What, er – what did I say to Lucifer the night we said goodbye, six months ago?”

Chloe's gaze was piercing, her brow cross; her whole posture had turned firm, solid, grounded, as if she was preparing to withstand a huge, physical impact.

But Lucifer merely smiled.

“You said that losing me was what you had feared most. Then you begged me not go and...” He chuckled with the same breath-taken disbelief. “You told me you loved me...” Her expression softened, lifted. Hope and warmth was rekindled in her hazel eyes. He pressed on.

“I haven't stopped thinking about those words since I left...and now that I'm back...it's time I made plain how I feel...”

He reached for her, wide, gentle palms cupping her face, first. But they surged towards each other more or less at the same time.

She tasted like coffee and late nights and grilled cheese sandwiches, and something inscrutable and sweet that could only be defined as 'Chloe'. But on the whole, she tasted like home.

He kissed her deep and rapturous, not timid or pensive this time. He adored her, and was intent on getting the message across, physically, passionately. He molded his lips with hers in a gorgeous pas de deux, and Chloe smiled and cried and moaned into the contact, drinking his fiery, whisky flavor in just as deeply. They held each other, pecking and licking and nibbling until they had to part to catch their breath.

“I missed you so much, darling...I'm never leaving your side again...”

“I love you, Lucifer!” Chloe gasped, stretching up to give him one more little peck.

“And I you, Chloe...” The Devil breathed out, peaceful and sensuous, pressing his forehead to hers, sharing the intimate space of her breath and body heat. It was the closest thing to paradise he knew.

“Tell me everything. How have you been? How's your offspring? And Miss Lopez? Is Mazikeen about ready to bite my head off? How have the Doctor and my brother been managing with their offspring? Has solving cases without me been unbearably dull?” She fixed him with a sultry smacker of a kiss that left him reeling.

“You're lucky I missed you...” Chloe smiled, taking Lucifer's signature sass in stride.

She brewed a fresh pot of tea, not daring to ingest coffee this late, and took him through her six months, case by case. They settled on the couch with their piping hot mugs. Somewhere between stories about Trixie and tales of working with Maze as her second, she inched her way over to him, eventually clambering into his lap when she'd drained her mug dry.

He wrapped her up in his arms, snug and warm, and answered her every curious question. He talked about finding and training Azazel, quelling riots in Hell, starting up a new Redemption program so that souls trapped in Hell by their guilt alone, suffering needlessly, could overcome the negative spiral and end up in the Silver City where they belonged.

Chloe was cuddling against his neck by now, eyes affectionately half-lidded and warm. Lucifer could've purred from the joy and desire that swept through him.

“I'm so proud of you. That you're changing things down there.” His cheeks might as well have spontaneously been transformed into furnaces, they flared up with such heat.

“I've always wanted to exact justice on those who _deserve_ it, Detective. The difference is now I have enough empathy to be able to assist those who ended up in Hell by mistake.”

“Still...” Her fingers brushed along his jaw, tracing his features subconsciously. He could've melted into a deliriously happy puddle.

“I'm so glad to be home, darling,” he breathed, impressing his words on her lips. He groaned when Chloe's fingers traced a path up his neck and began to brush through his hair.

All he'd ever wanted and more...

And in spite of L.A.'s sudden chill, his body had turned into small oven, radiating heat.

“And you're seriously not going anywhere? No other long-term, Devil emergency business trips or apocalyptic disasters to look out for?” Chloe asked, smiling, panting. His gut clenched desirously at the sight of her sultry, dark eyes.

“You're stuck with me, Detective.”

She fell on him with a happy moan, pushing him to the couch and kissing him breathless.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to her, with her, the secret desires he wanted to draw out of her...

“Forget gifts – I already have everything I could possibly want for Christmas!” Chloe gasped, diving back in for more, tongue licking into his mouth and wrestling with his.

But in spite of the exquisite kisses, the Detective's statement still shocked him from his lustful delirium.

“Sorry, love? Did you say Christmas? Isn't it a bit early to be mentioning December...holidays...” But his mind was already working furiously, calculating, wondering.

Chloe brushed her hair behind her ear with a smile, shaking her head at Lucifer's uncanny ability to be distracted, and reached for her phone on the desk, pulling up her home-screen to show Lucifer the date.

December 15, in plain blue-and-white light.

His head fell back against the couch pillows.

“Oh no...” he groaned, petulant and forlorn, and Chloe had to bite back a surprised laugh.


	3. The King of Sinful Sots & Chloe's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But unlucky for Luci, his timing was poor  
> For the holiday season had come to Earth, once more  
> And if there's one thing that Satan wishes would just disappear  
> Is false kindness, faux grins, and cheesy holiday cheer!  
> For the holidays are the result of much fuss  
> And he couldn't care less for the Christmastime rush

“Utterly ridiculous...” Lucifer griped, trailing behind Chloe after work the next day. When he'd said he wasn't leaving her side, he was quite serious. He was intent on spending every moment he could with her, at least for the time being. The only reason he hadn't nodded off with the Detective in his arms was because Chloe wasn't yet ready to explain the whole situation to Trixie. Besides, him coming by early for breakfast gave her daughter the perfect opportunity to attack Lucifer with bear-hugs and ask him a million questions about his business trip.

On the whole, a much easier reunion than being jolted awake by Trixie screaming in elation upon finding Lucifer sleeping next to her mother on their couch.

Now, Lucifer, in his dogged promise to stick with his beloved, found himself facing down engaging in one of Capitalist America's most Hellish practices – Christmas shopping at the mall.

Chloe had blessedly promised to be as efficient as possible. She hardly wanted to spend the rest of her Thursday in a crowded mall either.

“I couldn't have chosen any other time of year to get homesick – _literally_ any other time!” Lucifer said, scowling to himself. Chloe could only shake her head in bewilderment.

“I know I'm asking a loaded question but...what is it you can't stand about Christmas?” Chloe asked, benignly curious, smiling patiently.

Lucifer's glare could've frozen the sun with its sarcastic frigidity.

“ _Where_ to even begin...” the Devil growled, as they swept inside, only to be assaulted by the reverberating voices of mall shoppers, neon lighting, gaudy holiday baubles in bright, eye-catching colors hanging from the ceiling, and a cloud of cheap, greasy, food court aromas.

“The entire holiday is Dad spitting on me and calling me scum, with the act of sending his new _favorite_ son, my half-brother, to 'save the human race from my influence.'”

Chloe instantly regretted voicing her question.

“Lucifer, I'm so sorry. I didn't think this through-” He was quick to stop her, clasping her hands and meeting her eyes.

“Love, I know you mean well. It's perfectly alright to ask me any and every question. My offer from before I left still stands,” he said, anger abating for a moment, replaced by his usual tenderness.

“Still...I can't imagine...” Chloe said, mournfully. Lucifer released her hands and shrugged dramatically.

“What can I say – more kindling to add to the fire of 'humanities flaws that we blame on the Devil.' I hate it, but no more than _that_ whole lot. At this point, I'm used to hearing and rejecting that drivel. Pure evil is not who I am – never was, never will be. And as for my half-brother, I really have nothing against Jesus, personally. I never even met him. Hate how Father put him on such a bloody pedestal only to make him suffer like that, and for what? 'Curing humanity of original sin' was a charade. His death was barbaric _and_ pointless.”

“Then...what do you hate about the holiday, specifically?” Chloe probed, rounding the corner of the mall's pathway, only for the massive, cherry-red, Santa Meet-and-Greet Sleigh to come into view.

The line of exhausted parents and hyperactive, screaming children seemed to have no end in sight.

“As if the holiday being based on _one_ lie wasn't enough...” Lucifer muttered under his breath, clinging to the sleeve of Chloe's suede jacket as they weaved their way through the crowd. “I mean look at them all! Parents perpetuating the myth that material gifts will bring you happiness, children buying into the lie that 'Santa' exi-”

Chloe abruptly stopped in her tracks, causing the Devil to crash into her as she angrily _shushed_ him.

“Maybe it all sounds like a lie to you, but to them, it's real!” Chloe implored, quietly. “The magic of the _holiday_ is real. And it lasts for such a short time in their lives; don't ruin it for them, Lucifer...” Her partner rolled his eyes.

“Alright, _fine_ , biggest corporate lie or not, I won't 'spoil the magic' for the little urchins.” The Detective glared at him with such dire, scathing warning, that any remaining desire to do so fled from his mind completely.

They continued navigating through the crowd, heading towards Chloe's first stop, the confectionery store to pick up small sweets for Trixie's class gift exchange.

“But you have to admit, Detective, the materialism of the whole season can turn one's stomach...”

“It's really not supposed to be about the money though, Lucifer, not if you're giving a gift for the right reasons. It's meant to be about recognizing what someone could really need or...heh... _desire-_ ”

The Devil rolled his eyes. Massively.

“And gifting it to them. Personally, I try to go for the most practical or sentimental things I can – tools, cookware, books, warm clothes, objects that brighten up a home. Plus, those tend to come with more reasonable price tags.”

“Well, perhaps you're immune to holiday hysteria, Detective, but most aren't so lucky. Fads change from moment to moment, but everyone falls pray to them eventually – _especially_ when they're aimed at offspring,” Lucifer said, as they entered the warmly-lit candy store and began to walk up and down the cream-and-gold aisles.

“How many times have you fallen pray to Beatrice _begging_ you for a particular toy, for example?”

“Do you know who you're talking to, Lucifer? Or have you forgotten the All-American Doll Debacle of 2016?”

Lucifer shed a guilty grin, looking over the aisle-divider and the bunches of over-sized lollipops to meet her gaze.

“No, I haven't, Detective.” Chloe shot him a satisfied smirk.

“I've always tried to talk Trixie down from buying into fads – encourage her to want her own thing, independent of the group mindset. So far, I haven't caved once.” She rolled her eyes. “Dan, on the other hand...” Lucifer gesticulated dramatically, victoriously.

“My point exactly! Christmas takes humanity's flimsy status as a tolerable species and takes them down _below_ the sentient mammal-level! It infects everything it touches!”

“Not every single part of Christmas is materialistic, Lucifer,” Chloe groaned, finding the candy cane section and picking out the box of two dozen, in standard size.

“But that's just it! The parts that aren't associated with greed and drowning oneself in debt are completely phony. I mean, just look around you!” The Devil said, pointing wildly about the store. Chloe followed his gestures.

Red and green garlands of tinsel snaked across the counter tops and looped along the shelves. Sparkly fake snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Cardboard cutouts of grinning cartoon elves and reindeer flanked the front doors. The place was bedecked in holiday cheer.

“Everywhere you look, the place is decorated in garish rubbish, topped with a grisly, sparkly bow! And every bit of Christmas propaganda insists on how _wonderful_ the whole holiday is! A whole holiday dedicated to forcing people to act happy for fear of social rejection. It's despicable!”

Chloe's brow creased, with concern and contention, as she headed for the check-out counter, exchanging polite greetings with the college-aged cashier.

“That's a stretch too far, Lucifer. Plenty of people don't like or don't celebrate Christmas. It's not a legal requirement to enjoy it.”

“Are you implying that people don't fake cheer during this time of year, ever?”

“I didn't say that – Lucifer, so what if the decorations are cheesy and sometimes tired parents have to temporarily fake a smile for their kids? The spirit of giving, of generosity and togetherness behind the holiday is what makes it beautiful-”

“And _the music!_ Christmas butchers the medium of music _itself,_ Detective! Can you think of anything more evil?!”

Chloe had to practically push Lucifer out of the store to avoid the cashier's wide-eyed stare. Whatever their stance on the holiday was, this wasn't really a conversation to be having in public, not with Lucifer yelling about it, anyway.

She made a b-line towards the post office for wrapping paper, bows, boxes, and stamps.

“-I mean, psalms were bad enough, with their repetition and Father-worshipping lyrics, but then all this nauseating modern music comes along and just steamrolls it completely!”

“Oh c'mon, Lucifer!” Chloe exclaimed, patience thinning from all his griping, even if she could see there was truth to some of his points. After all, she'd always been partial to the Christmas aesthetic, and at least _some_ Christmas music. “There's gotta be one Christmas song you like. What about... _Carol of the Bells_?”

“Meh...bit dull if you ask me.”

“ _All I Want for Christmas is You_?”

“Ha, if I never get that ear-worm stuck in my head again, it will be too soon!”

“ _Let It Snow_?”

“Detective, please don't insult me...”

Chloe listed every classic Christmas song she could think of, to no avail. Either Lucifer just barely tolerated the number, found it boring, grating, or out-right couldn't stand it. In a desperate gambit to find something, she wracked her brain for the sexiest Christmas song she could think of.

“ _Santa, Baby_?” she offered, torn between getting dark blue paper with silver snowflakes, and sparkly red paper with golden jingle bells.

“Nice try, Detective, but I detest Madonna's _Betty Boop_ impression. The concept of St. Nick as a sugar daddy however – absolute winner on Eartha Kitt's part. She was a _Queen_.” Chloe groaned, deciding she should just give up this losing battle now. Leave it to Lucifer to make holiday shopping even more painful than it already was.

“...Actually...”

Ah! A light in the darkness! Maybe this would help her turn the conversation around, get him to admit he liked some tiny positive about the holiday, and then they could _move on_.

“I'd quite forgotten – I like _Sleigh Ride_. That's a fun one, nice orchestration, creative use of instruments, and it once lead to a thoroughly enjoyable evening with a very experienced Dominatrix.”

Chloe's brow pinched with stress, and her expression fell.

“Do I...even want to ask how _Sleigh Ride_ and BDSM mix?”

“Oh, you know, Detective! How the instruments evoke horses in the song?”

Lucifer whistled a few bars of _Sleigh Ride_ , punctuating the moment the clapper imitated the urging of the horses with a sharp _click_ of his tongue, and with a _whip_ of a length of silver ribbon in his hand, chuckling to himself afterwards.

Chloe, mortified, gathered up her gift wrap materials lightning fast and raced to check-out, as if she might out-run the mental image of Lucifer being whipped in time to the percussion in _Sleigh Ride_. To her dismay, she didn't.

* * * * * * *

Apparently, her mortification had been exactly the reaction Lucifer had been hoping for, because he had a bottomless well of Christmas-themed innuendos up his sleeve after that incident.

Just Chloe's luck that they were called to investigate a murder at a Christmas tree farm later in the week.

“Never understood the seasonal obsession with trees. I mean, lights sure, winter being the coldest, darkest Earth-season and all. But trees? Better on the fire than leaking sap in the middle of your living room.” The devilish grin was her one and only warning.

“'Course, I'm reserving the yule log for a very specific chimney this year. Not just going to warm up any old residence.”

“Chimney? Don't you mean fireplace?” Chloe asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Nope. I meant chimney, Detective.”

It took her a full three minutes for the lewd joke to sink in. Fortunately for Lucifer, the murder suspect in question burst of the trees at that moment, charging at them while wielding an ax.

If the burly man hadn't made an appearance, Chloe would've had to attack her partner herself for his brashness (maybe with a lot less violence, but still).

Wrapping presents for the office Christmas party was worse.

“Why bother with paper and bows when presents are much more fetching unwrapped?”

“Guess it depends of the kind of present you're thinking of, Lucifer,” Ella smirked, catching on as the small group tidily wrapped gifts together at the precinct.

“It's perfectly possible to have a white Christmas with them wrapped, but it would be quite a lot messier.”

Ella snorted. Dan groaned.

“Jesus, Lucifer...” he groaned, tucking his completed present under his arm and swiftly walking away.

“Not quite, Daniel!” the Devil called after him, chortling. “But based on your absent sense of humor, I'd wager your Christmas will definitely be a silent night!”

“Mind your business, Lucifer!!”

The Devil looked about ready to let another comment fly, though Dan was already out the door, when Chloe rose to her ex-husband's support.

“Lucifer, leave him alone. He still hasn't moved on from Charlotte. It's going to take some time.” Lucifer threw up his eyebrows indifferently.

“Seems to me like more than one person in the office could use a bit of stocking stuffing as a seasonal pick-me-up...I have a perfectly suitable package readily available, love...”

Ella gasped, and gave his shoulder a hearty whack. Chloe, meanwhile, flushed crimson at the implication, incapable of coming up with a retort to put him in his place.

“You are _so bad!_ ” Ella exclaimed.

“'Tis the season, Ms. Lopez! No way am I making the nice list, so I might as well encourage a heaping helping of naughtiness to balance the scales.” Ella shook her head, chuckling.

“Your method acting is on another level, my dude.”

Lucifer's tirade on Christmas being anti-naughty continued well into the week, bleeding into Chloe's continued Christmas shopping, this time dedicated to presents.

“It's not healthy discouraging indulgence like that. People should be free to engage their forbidden desires – humanity would be a lot happier if they were less pent up, less repressed.”

“Did you stop to consider, maybe for a moment, that the whole 'naughty or nice' thing is exclusive to children, Lucifer?”

The Devil blinked at his partner in bewilderment. She'd been in the middle of deciding between two different art supply kits for Trixie, and had stopped dead in her tracks to let this comment fly. The inordinately steely quality to her gaze made plain just how serious her question was.

He gave an answer, haltingly.

“Well...yes, Detective. I'm aware that construct of the Christmas celebration is intended to encourage children to be well-behaved around the holidays...I'm not that clueless about human practices...”

“Good. Glad we cleared that up,” Chloe said, tone clipped, as she settled on the art kit that had more markers and fewer paints.

Lucifer trailed after his partner.

“But, still, don't you think it encourages a bit of repression on the parts of the adults, Detective? And its hypocritical too! Your version of St. Nicholas is always going on about how many hoe-hoe-hoes he has!”

Chloe let out a guttural groan, picking up her pace in a vain attempt to escape from Lucifer.

As a result of her frustration following her latest, and final, shopping trip for the season (she ticked off the boxes in her head: trendy recipe book for mom, comfy pj's for Ella, coffee table for Dan, an art kit and a DIY science experiment kit for Trixie, knife-sharpening block for Maze, picture book for Charlie, babysitting and spa day coupons for Amenadiel and Linda), Chloe nearly forgot to pack Trixie's candy canes for school the next day.

Lucifer had, ironically, been the one to remind her.

“You know, Detective, candy canes used to be a lot more fun, back in the day,” he said, passing the box across the counter to her. She was quick to snap back, much quicker than he was used to.

“I really don't care, Luci-”

“You've heard of Krampus, right?” he asked, smiling, pressing on. Chloe shoved the box of candy canes into Trixie's backpack unceremoniously.

“Yes. I've heard of him. Let me, vicious rumor invented to slight you?” she deadpanned.

“Mmmm, mostly. The part about me leaving switches and canes for parents to punish their naughty children was true – not the half-goat bit, or the kidnapping, though. Those were 'artistic liberties and absurd hear-say. Except, the canes weren't made of wood. They were made from sugar and looked like much bigger versions of _those_ ,” he said, nodding in the direction of the stowed box of candies.

This caught Chloe off-guard, and not in an entirely unpleasant way. What do you know? A Devil Fun Fact. That was a first.

“Really? That's surprising, considering how many of the stories about you turned out to be completely false.” His smile curled up just a bit more. Chloe braced herself.

“Quite. The best part was, once the parents were done putting their little imps in place, they used the canes for a bit of fun themselves.” Chloe could only dully blink at him.

“Right. Of course they did.” She tried to exit the conversation, quickly and quietly. But the Devil was persistent.

“'Course, they used to also be shaped in a bit more, uh...anatomically correct way, shall we say?”

Christmas could not be over and done with fast enough.

On a particularly frigid, listless day at the precinct, when Lucifer seemed to be behaving himself, Chloe made the mistake of asking what he might want for Christmas.

“Oh – sweet of you, Detective, but what I desire can't be bought. And worry not, I've decided against getting you anything material, either. I've discovered that actions are ultimately considered more valuable than items.”

She was ignoring the sultry, dark look in his eyes. Positively blind to it.

“Thanks, but I think I've lost my appetite for Christmas gifts of that sort,” Chloe said, coldly, looking Lucifer dead in the face.

Her words might as well have been a Claymore sharpened to perfection, as they stabbed him right through the heart.

Chloe got up from her desk and swiftly crossed the bull-pen to the evidence room, cozy cardigan billowing in the air behind her.

He just managed to stop the door with his hand and slip inside after her.

He shoved anything clever or witty out of his mind. Now was the time for honest talk, no matter how poorly phrased.

“Chloe...I'm sorry.” She whirled on him, and his insides went cold with terror at the sight of the anger on her face.

“Just because you hate Christmas doesn't mean you have to go around ruining it for everyone else!!” she yelled, making him wince.

“I made one suggestion too many, didn't I? I'm sorry, Chloe – the last thing I wanted was to upset you, I was just trying to have a bit of fun! You know me!” He gasped, searching for words. “When I detest something or want to make light of it, I make jokes! Making sexual puns out this holier-than-thou season seemed like the ultimate way to flip the bird at it, that's all!”

“It's not just about the Christmas-themed sexual innuendos, Lucifer. I mean, forget that I didn't say what I want yet, one way or the other – implying that you want to screw me in front of _my co-workers_ -”

“Only around Ms. Lopez! And she's rooting for us to sleep together more than any normal person should, Detective!”

She huffed in frustration, hot anger still stewing in her eyes.

“You know, I forgot in all the time you were gone how _selfish_ you can be sometimes.”

He was gutted. Hollowed out. Positively cored.

“I only wanted to remember the good things, how sweet and protective you could be, the moments when you were there for me and were such a _good_ friend and partner. But no – when it comes to this time of year, how much you can't stand it eclipses everyone else problems. As if your hatred for Christmas is _the only thing that matters!!_ ”

Now that she'd let her anger free, it quickly drained from her expression. Her eyes were no longer hazel-green hot coals, but chilled pools of terrible sadness.

Lucifer approached her, step by slow step.

“Chloe...my sense of humor isn't anything new. You've always been either annoyed or charmed by it. But...I've never actually made you angry before...not with just a joke.” He stopped a step away. “Something else happened that's making you upset...”

She raised her arms across her chest, hugging herself. She nodded.

“Please tell me, Chloe. If can help you, or comfort you in any way...” His fingers twitched, hesitating. Then he raised his arms and set his hands on her shoulders.

“I _have_ been a focused on my own grievances lately, but no longer. I want to help you with your troubles, Chloe...”

She let out a weary sigh.

“I don't think there's anything you can do, Lucifer,” she murmured. The Detective met his eyes and explained. “Dan and I, we tend to rotate custody among the various holidays. I forgot he has Trixie on Christmas this year. And, just my luck, he got busy with a case, and got stuck in his own head again and...he completely forgot to tell me...”

“About?” She gave Lucifer a teary smile.

“He's taking Trixie across the country for Christmas. His family and my mother are all meeting up for a big Christmas get-together. And he told me just the other day – five days before Christmas. Every last plane ticket is gone by now.” Chloe sniffed, swiping away an errant tear, trying not to sink too deeply into despair.

Lucifer was quick to jump to her aid.

“Not every ticket! Detective, I have private plane! I'll call up Fernandez right this minute and cash in a deal-”

“Lucifer, no,” she said, clasping his hand in a reassuring way. “It's okay. The last way I want to spend the holiday is holed up in a log cabin with my mother, my mother-in-law, and Dan's crazy siblings.”

“But...Detective...” he said, breath short as realization began to sink in “Even though she can be messy and loud, you adore your offspring. And without her, you'll...” He peeled his hand from her grasp, moving his palms to gently cup her cheeks. “You'll be alone on Christmas.”

Chloe shrugged.

“Linda and Amenadiel will still be in town. Even though Ella's going to Detroit to visit her family, I won't be alone.”

“But-”

“I'll be okay, Lucifer.”

But if there was one thing the Prince of Darkness acutely knew the taste of, it was a lie.

That very night, he began planning.

He found out the exact location of the vacation home the Espinozas had rented. He checked the weather patterns and calculated for wind resistance. He assessed the log cabin's best means of entry and exit. He double and triple-checked the time difference, and the latest time he could leave.

It was all worked out.

Now all that remained was letting the little urchin in on his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary Cont:
> 
> But, you see, quite simply all of that is forgotten  
> When his love, Chloe Decker, feels lonely and rotten  
> For a Christmastime spent far apart from her daughter  
> Is not worth celebrating, so why even bother?


	4. The Holiday Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So naturally, the Devil rolls his sleeves up,  
> To enact a heist you almost could not believe!  
> In the wake of much chaos, espionage, and wonder  
> Lucifer manages to make the best of his big holiday blunder
> 
> Chloe is ecstatic, shocked, elated even!  
> She'd given up on the whole Christmas season!  
> But in a Christmas Town Lux, dressed up the nines,  
> And home to many merry puns, naughty jokes and rhymes,  
> The Detective is greeted by her happy young daughter,  
> And the Devil's off-handed, “For a few hours? She won't be a bother.”

“ _Pssst! Beatrice!_ ”

He'd come over on the pretense of saying goodbye to Trixie before she left for Michigan the following morning. The Detective wouldn't suspect a thing. Besides, she was currently busy hiding Beatrice's gifts in her luggage – even if she couldn't be there, at least the presents she'd intended to give her daughter could be. And Dan had reassured her he wouldn't let Trixie's luggage out of his sight. No way their little monkey was getting an early peek at her presents.

The urchin sidled right up next to him.

“I have something to discuss with you, offspring,” Lucifer whispered, conspiratorial, kneeling down to meet Trixie at eye level. “But only if you promise to keep it a secret. It's about your mother's Christmas present.”

Trixie's eyes grew wide, ecstatic, and lightning fast, she wrapped her pinkie around his and squeezed.

“I promise, I won't tell a soul. Now spill! What did you get Mom?” she grinned, relinquishing his hand, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“It's not a material gift, Beatrice. It can't be wrapped.” Her joyful expression drooped.

“But it's still a good gift? Something that might make her happy?” The Devil's smile grew soft, tender.

“I know it will.”

“Good!” she exclaimed, relieved “Mom's been so sad lately because she can't fly to Michigan with me and Dad. I've tried everything I could think of to cheer her up, but nothing's worked – not even watching our favorite Christmas movies together and sharing a bucket of hot chocolate.” The Devil grinned at the mental image that conjured up, and divulged his secrets to her.

“My gift idea for her is a surprise visit from you! I'd fly you back to Los Angeles on Christmas Eve – round-trip, courtesy of Lucifer Air,” the Devil said, grinning his classic, mischievous, Devilish grin. Trixie gasped in elation.

“I'll get to go flying with you?! That's gonna be so cool! Okay, what's the plan?!”

The Devil had to chortle at her enthusiasm.

“What time do Christmas Eve celebrations normally come to a close when the family's all together?”

“Pretty early,” Trixie mused, tapping her chin with her index finger. “We'll have dinner around 7:00, play a board game or watch a Christmas movie, and then me and my little cousins will all go to bed around 10:00. I'm not so sure when the adults go to bed after us, but it can't be much later. We wake up _really_ early on Christmas morning to open presents.”

“Perfect! So here's what I'll need you to do. Whenever you can during the evening, pack up an overnight bag with everything you might need for sleepover with your mum. I'll show up after 10:30 and fly you to L.A. Dress up warmly, it can get really cold in the upper atmosphere, especially during this time of year. But, so your mother as well as the rest of your family gets to see you on Christmas, I'll need to fly you back to Michigan at 4:00 in the morning, at the latest. I'll spirit you back so you can still get enough sleep and wake up the household to open gifts. No one will be any the wiser that you left at all! So, what do you say, offspring? Are you in?”

Trixie pursed her lips to one side of her mouth (inconceivably) hesitant, in spite of Lucifer's thoroughly persuasive, enthused argument. But then her face split into a grin, and he knew she'd been messing with him.

“Of course I am, Lucifer!” Without meaning to, he gave her small hand an affectionate squeeze.

“That's my little demon,” he said, smile dazzling.

* * * * * *

Flying halfway across the country, dodging lines of snowstorms and icy winter winds, was its own tall task. Not that he was complaining or anything! His alabaster-white angel wings were resilient to all kinds of damage and strain, and completely water-proof. He wasn't some flimsy little turtle dove that couldn't handle his own in a storm.

Besides, he'd found the cold a refreshing change after Hell's intolerable warmth. But still...this kind of bite to the blasting gales could put anyone off their mood for a late-night flight.

In the end, a Celestially fast flight to the Espinoza's log cabin was a breeze compared to infiltrating the structure.

There were obstacles at every turn. The snow lay in a thick carpet all around the homestead, and crunched under his winter boots mercilessly, no matter how light and slow he tried to make his footfalls. Once he had the wall of the two-story cabin to his back, he had to duck under brightly lit windows, listening carefully for the continued, boisterous chatter of the company of adults inside that assured him he hadn't been spotted. Colossal icicles lined the edge of the roof, and fell at the slightest accidental disturbance. Never had he been more grateful for his distance from the Detective.

Being shish-kabobbed to death by a stray icicle...he'd be the laughing stalk of the immortals until the end of time.

Fighting the slippery edge of the drain pipe to clamber onto the roof, while making minimal noise with his cumbersome wings, had been taxing on its own. But then came the ultimately irony, after he spent fifteen minutes leaning over the edge of the roof, upside down, in order to see in the windows and find which of the ten bedrooms was the urchin's.

Her window was stuck on the outside, utterly impossible to pry open. It was frozen shut, not locked, as Trixie had promised to leave it open for him. Not even his Devilish strength seemed to help loosen the thing. He was about to swallow his pride and attempt to sneak in through the front door, and past the raucous, liquor-laced laughter of the adult's party (unlikely to be successful), when he noticed Beatrice's room had a unique method of entry.

He wasn't St. Nick, not even close. But Nicholas Scratch was one of his oldest names. He supposed he could manage climbing down a chimney once...For a good cause...

He swore quietly and jumped to the task.

The fit was snug, the fired bricks grating and harsh, even through his coat. He kept his back against the wall, and his feet planted on the far side and slowly shuffled down the smoky, blackened, rectangular column. The dark shaft gradually lightened and warmed, until his foot found solid ground again, and he lowered himself onto the floor, poking his head out of the fireplace in Beatrice's bedroom. Untwisting like a pretzel, he extricated himself from the fireplace, quietly grunting in pain when he tripped up on a burnt-up chunk of firewood.

“Santa Claus?” a small voice murmured. The Devil groaned.

The indignity of it all. He would swear the urchin to secrecy, if only doing so wouldn't immediately reveal his embarrassment.

“Not quite, Beatrice,” he whispered, swiftly brushing the ash from his now-ruined hair.

“Lucifer! I almost forgot!” Trixie exclaimed, still at a whisper, as she threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed.

“Ready to go, offspring?” he asked, observing with a smirk that she was piling pillows up under her comforter rather skillfully. When she pulled the covers back in place, the lump was decidedly Trixie-shaped, and convinced even him.

“Yeah – I'm all packed! Just give me a second to get dressed!”

He patiently waited while Trixie shoved on her boots, buttoned up her coat, and tugged on a fluffy hat, and gloves.

“I don't think I've ever seen you wearing a winter coat,” Trixie said, with a small giggle, as she handed the Devil her miniature, sleep-over duffle bag.

“Yes, well, unique times call for unique solutions,” Lucifer muttered, desperately trying to swipe his wool coat free of soot. He'd donned warmer trousers for the occasion, ones he didn't mind dirtying or getting a bit wet with snow, sturdy snow boots, finger-less gloves, a cable-knit jumper, and, though he detested the cliché red hat with white fur trim, he'd elected to wear some small token in the red shade – a stylish knitted scarf.

“We're not going back up the chimney are we?” the urchin asked, wearily.

“'Course not, Beatrice. I'll be able open the window from inside.”

He approached the troublesome thing and gave it a hearty shove. It didn't even budge.

“What the hell is wrong with this-” Lucifer slammed into it with his shoulder. Once. Twice. It creaked and moved open about an eighth of an inch.

“Someone's gonna hear!” Trixie hummed nervously.

“That's a risk I'm willing to take, offspring! I'm lucky I could get down that smoky, claustrophobic tube on my own. With you, and the bag in tow? Forget it.”

_Slam. Slam. SLAM_.

The window gave. It was thrown open with such force, it swung wildly on its hinges, the frame crashing against the side of the house, cracking the pane of glass. Altogether, it sounded like a gunshot going off.

“Kids!”

“ _Trixie!_ ”

“ _What was that?!_ ”

The second panicked shout sounded like Dan, but from the way he slurred his daughter's name, he'd probably had one drink too many. Pounding footfalls began to make their way up the stairs, in a stumbling, inconsistent cadence.

“Time to go!” Lucifer yelped, seizing Trixie's bag from where he'd dropped it on the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, grasping the urchin tight when she leapt into his arms with a tiny exclamation of panic.

He was on the window sill in a second, and with an almighty flap of his wings, he was launching himself into the sky, Trixie whooping in elation and making him chortle.

Dan had burst through Trixie's bedroom door the second Lucifer had leapt from the window. All he saw was a massive, dark blur, like a huge bird, the wind buffeting snow in through the open window, and Trixie sound asleep in bed. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the tequila was having a field day with his perception.

Not only was he dizzy, but now he was starting to see things.

Perplexed, he stumbled over to the window, firmly shutting it, wincing at the hairline cracks that had appeared in it. He mumbled a 'Goodnight, Trix, sorry about that,' yawned monstrously, turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * * * * *

“Please, love? Just for an hour or so?” Lucifer pleaded.

“I don't know, Lucifer...” Chloe mumbled, weary and melancholy. “Spending Christmas Eve at a loud, drunk, strip club wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

“Well if not to see what I've done to Lux, than what about for the pleasure of my company? Besides, I have cable. You can just as easily continue your cheesy, Hallmark movie marathon over here.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled affectionately.

“How ever did you guess?” He chuckled, not bothering with a response; he could tell the question was rhetorical.

“Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“See you soon, Detective,” he said, sweetly, tucking his phone away and freshening up as fast as he could, determined to wash the soot from his hair by the time the Detective arrived.

He was waiting for her just inside the front doors when she arrived, dressed in a mauve silken suit. She was a far cry from dolled up, but she'd put on a fetching, comfortable, burgundy sweater, and cute, ankle-cut, black leather boots so she wouldn't feel too under-dressed at a night club.

“Merry Christmas, Detective,” Lucifer murmured, smile incandescent as he leaned down to kiss her temple.

“That remains to be seen, Lucifer,” Chloe sighed, accepting his offered elbow gratefully, in spite of her low spirits.

“Well – I hope you'll indulge my attempts to turn the evening around all the same, love.” She shot him an appreciative smile.

But it was a brief one.

The moment they stepped into Lux's main lobby, her jaw hit the floor.

It looked as if a snowstorm had swept through the club. Fake snow drifts and decorative snowflakes made every surface sparkle with wintry whimsy. The stripper poles had been covered with layers of colorful Mylar to resemble striped candy canes. The dancers up the balcony wore sparkly red tops and teeny-tiny, sequined red skirts. The laser light show had been turned to a red and green setting, flashing in time a trap remix of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” Half the pole dancers had donned sexy elf costumes, while the other half across the way were in low-cut tux jackets with layered vests and long coattails. The dance floor was packed, the crowd was raving, and people cozied up in the booths, drunk and laughing.

“What did you – how – why?!” Chloe exclaimed, chortling in surprise. Lucifer shrugged.

“Spirit of the season, Detective. If the people are asking for a naughty Winter Wonderland, expecting it even, who am I to deny their desires? Would you care for a drink?” he said, leading her down the staircase to the bar.

“Uh – haha – sure, why not?” she said, beaming in delight and bemusement.

The drink menu had been completely redone. It was now chock full of mixed drinks with names like “Vixen's Mixer,” a sparkling hard cider, “Dancer's Peppermint Shot,” “Elves Day-Off,” a half-dry, half-sweet martini, “Santa's Night-Cap,” a vodka cranberry, “Chestnut's Roasting,” a spiced, rich whiskey, and “Lux's Hot Chocolate.”

“Most aren't really my taste – far too artificially colored and sugary,” Lucifer said, by way of explanation, shouting to be heard over the music. “But the Brittney's struck gold with the last one. Only natural, I suppose, they always were my little helpers,” he said, his cheeky grin prompting an automatic shake of his partner's head.

“Dare I ask what's in it?”

“It's a simple malt chocolate whisky.” Chloe chewed her bottom lip, tossing her head from side to side. “Two Lux Hot Chocolate's please,” she asked Terry, the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“On the house,” the Devil added, smiling at his partner.

The drink was warm, silky, and indeed chocolatey, as it slid down her throat, burning pleasantly.

Chloe hummed happily.

“Not bad, then?” Lucifer asked, a twinkle in his eye. His partner was grinning, the smile reaching all the way up to her crinkled eyes.

“Not even close.” The Devil chortled.

“Let's head up, talk somewhere a little quieter.”

“ _Please_ ,” responded Chloe, enthused.

She took one last look at the club and couldn't help glancing down at the pole dancers in coattails as they headed for the elevator.

“The elf costumes make perfect sense, but what is that group of dancers meant to be dressed as?”

“Penguins, of course. I'm surprised at you, Detective,” Lucifer said, quirking an eyebrow. “Haven't you figured out by now that the elf side of the dance floor is the North 'Pole'?”

Chloe's laugh was dry, sarcastic, and she couldn't have rolled her eyes more fervently.

“And the 'penguins' are at the South 'Pole'? You are unbelievable, Lucifer...”

The elevator _pinged_ , its doors sliding open. The Devil kissed her cheek as they stepped inside.

“Thank you very much, Detective. I do try my best.” But far from being mischievously triumphant, he took her snide compliment in stride, his tone of voice sweet and earnest. She stared at him the whole ride up, trying to figure him out.

“What is this really about, Lucifer? I know you didn't just ask me here to look at your decorations – no matter how surprising a sight they are.”

“Perceptive as always, Detective,” he said, guarded, but gazing at her tenderly. Her brow furrowed and her eyelids drooped sarcastically.

“Please tell me you didn't come up with some extravagant, over-the-top, insane Christmas gift to cheer me up.”

“Detective, please! It's as if you don't know me at all!” he exclaimed, feigning insult. “It isn't extravagant in the slightest!”

The elevator came to a stop.

He cracked a smile.

“But it is a gift.”

The doors parted and Chloe's entire face lit up.

“TRIXIE!”

“Mom!!”

They ran to meet each other halfway, the Detective scooping her offspring into her arms and squeezing her tight. Lucifer's body instantly filled with effervescent warmth at the sight, though he never would have admitted it.

“How did you get here?!” she exclaimed, when she'd set her daughter back down.

“Lucifer flew me here!” Her expression fell in surprise.

“Flew you...” Understanding dawned and she turned to face him, grin equal parts indignant and exuberant.

Lucifer didn't miss a beat.

“Now then, there's hot chocolate cooling on the counter, Christmas movies on the DVR, board games in the closet, enough pillows and blankets to make a fort – or a nest, whichever you prefer – and an assortment of hors d'oeuvres and snacks...and, what am I forgetting?” A kitchen timer pinged from behind Lucifer's penthouse bar.

“Ah – of course, the cookies! One moment!”

In his fuss of setting out coasters and donning oven mitts to avoid getting burned while the Detective was around, he didn't notice Chloe sneak up behind him. He started when he turned around to set the piping hot gingerbread cookies on the counter.

“ _Bloody hell_ , Detective-”

“But won't Dan and everyone else notice she's gone?” Chloe asked, her smile at ease, not sounding too worried about the whole thing. Lucifer ripped off the oven mitts impatiently.

“I'll fly her back well before morning, Detective. I'm no amateur when it to schemes, love.”

“No. You sure aren't.”

The sweetness in the Detective's tone made him pause in the midst of frantic preparations, just long enough for Chloe to fix him with a slow, sweet kiss, her mouth molding against his in a delightful fashion.

Lucifer's pulse was fluttering with unadulterated glee when they parted.

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

“You're most welcome, Chloe...” He dipped back down for another kiss, only to break away quickly at the exclamation of disgust Trixie made from her spot on the couch, prompting him to rush over to her and snatch her up in his arms, bringing her over the mugs of perfect hot chocolate to quiet her griping.


	5. Satan, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the merry-making, and snacking, and flick-watching has past,  
> And the Devil has completed the round-trip Christmas dash  
> Lucifer finds a surprise waiting under the tree  
> A ribbon-wrapped, grinning, mischievous Chloe
> 
> “Detective? What are you doing under my tree?”  
> “After your Christmas gift? I couldn't think of a better present than me.”  
> What follows is too shocking, too lewd, too crass  
> We won't spoil all the naughty details here, so please do not ask!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for Chloe's "gift": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQb0DJZLhRM

From that moment on, time seemed to speed up at a supernatural rate, to the point that it lost all normal meaning. All Lucifer noticed were the moments.

Trixie and Chloe having a bubble blowing contest with their hot cocoa and curly-cue straws.

Creating a blanket fort on the floor for an abbreviated game of Monopoly while the cookies cooled on the counter.

The mess and the laughter, and the daubs of sugary frosting that dotted noses and cheeks and lips, following their time spent decorating the gingerbread cookies.

Nibbling on the veggie, cheese, and cracker spreads, as well as bowls of popcorn and pretzels, after they'd ruined their appetites from the sheer quantity of frosting they'd eaten, both on accident and on purpose.

Trixie insisting that she and Chloe help decorate Lucifer's short, cute little spruce tree he'd gotten on a “What the Hell” whim, and set in the corner by the elevator, and making the most of his fairly unexciting collection of silver and gold baubles and white lights to assemble a surprisingly festive, delightful little Christmas tree.

Piling onto the couch, warm and snug among the litany of blankets and pillows to watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. Though if he had to choose, Lucifer would've preferred the animated version – as it provided the most succinct, honest version of the story – at least Jim Carrey's rendition wasn't boring.

But he would've been quite fine without the Detective's comments on the similarities between Carrey's Grinch and himself, thank you very much.

He didn't describe his disdain for the holiday in _nearly_ as hyperbolic terms as Mr. Grinch. Nor did he feel the need to flop and bounce around like a flesh-and-blood cartoon character in everyday life.

Even still, getting to see the Detective smile again, without a care in the world, made the ribbing all worth it. He couldn't recall a moment in his life when he'd felt quite so warm as he did then, skin almost seeming to tingle with the pleasantness of it all. Trixie was beginning to nod off in his lap, Chloe sat snug against his side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Beatrice had been asleep for nearly half an hour when the Detective made the call.

“I think you should take her back now,” she whispered. The Devil glanced at his Rolex.

“2:30 AM. Shame, she could've easily stayed another hour-and-a-half and comfortably made it back in time.” She smirked at him, pointedly.

He lifted her offspring from his lap, changed back into his warm layers, and helped Chloe dress her daughter in her warm winter gear, slowly and carefully, so as not to wake her. Chloe tied Trixie's hat beneath her chin and kissed her cheek, the Devil hefting her gently into his arms.

“I'll fly above the clouds to keep her out of any winter storms and keep the turbulence to a minimum,” he murmured, breathily.

“How long will it take you – the round trip?” Chloe whispered in kind.

“40 minutes, at the most?”

Her smile thoroughly warmed the cockles of his buoyant heart.

“I'll see you soon, then.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“And here I'd thought you'd want to go home, right after.” She leaned closer, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Absolutely not,” she murmured, warm breath tickling his ear as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Hurry back.”

That dark, dazzling smile was enough to tempt him to break Celestial speed records for flight on Earth. But, for Beatrice's sake, he went at a pace mortals could tolerate.

He didn't make a mistake the second time around.

He plunged straight down the chimney. He'd deal with any vague traces of ash on his wings later. And Daniel could deal with the cloud of soot that was starting to stain the area rug tomorrow.

Settling Beatrice on her bed, he removed her hat, gloves, coat, and boots, trying to imitate Chloe's movements from nearly an hour ago as much as possible. He drew the comforter over her, settled her duffle bag on the floor noiselessly, and, checking to make sure her breathing was still slow and even, he made for the fireplace, mentally psyching himself up to rocket out of the chimney at a vertical take-off.

“...Merry Christmas, Lucifer...”

He glanced back at the urchin, letting a smile cross his face in the dark.

“To you as well, Beatrice. Good night.” He ducked down inside the flue, tensing his legs.

“...I love you.”

His breath stuttered, and he glanced her way again, knocked off-balance for a moment. He let the rush of warmth fill his chest, unabashedly, until he was brimming with it. Then, he took a deep breath, and readied himself again.

This time, nothing stopped him as he took flight.

Before he knew it, the lights of L.A.'s skyline were coming into view again, under the barest hint of cloud-cover.

He landed on Lux's balcony, jogging to a stop, and assessed the damage, but to his relief, dipping into a snowstorm on the way back had cleansed his wings of practically every minuscule smudge of soot. He preened for a moment, puffing up his wings, then drew them into his back.

Lucifer sauntered into his penthouse feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.

And then every solitary thought fled his mind in an instant.

“Detective...!” he exclaimed, heat and excitement curling over his shoulders and tracing sensuous paths up his neck. He tried to string words into a cohesive sentence, any cohesive sentence.

A question, yes! A question would serve him best.

“What are you doing under my Christmas tree?”

Maybe not any question.

Chloe rose slowly from her spot on the floor, where'd she'd been laying. Expectant, luxuriant, like a Roman goddess...

Bloody Hell, he couldn't be rendered this dumb by a woman in sexy clothes. Except, “clothes” might have been an overstatement. Chloe had, apparently, found his box of unused trimmings and trappings for Lux. Because she was currently wearing the yards of unused red ribbon as a cocktail dress, complete with a flirty bow on her left hip, subtle cleavage, her cute little leather boots...and pretty much nothing else...

But more than the Detective's scant clothing, it was the sultry, dark look in her eyes that sent his heart pumping fervently and his blood rushing south.

Her voice was a slow, velvety-soft purr when she spoke.

“Were you really so set on giving me the most wonderful Christmas gift imaginable that you forgot? I haven't given you yours yet.”

Oh, she was good.

“Completely slipped my mind, Detective,” he murmured as she drew ever closer. “But I'm afraid all the stores are closed at this hour,” he said with a smirk, getting back a hint of his mojo.

“How lucky. This present isn't something that can be bought, or sold...” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, his chin, combed lightly through his hair.

She was toying with him, and he loved every second of it.

“And it is a pretty selfish one, if you think about it...”

“How so, love?” His breath was growing shallow, and he just let it. If there was anyone he wanted to be achingly vulnerable around, it was his Detective.

“Unlike your gift, which was entirely for me, done with no expectations of getting anything in return-” He allowed himself a tiny victory grin, and for the praises to sink in deep “Mine...is something that can only be shared. Though, I imagine you will enjoy it just as much as I do...”

His eyelids drooped low, irises flashing a deep scarlet, and he moved to seize her in a searing kiss-

Except her finger against his lips stopped him.

“Not _just_ yet.”

“Chloe, please-” he breathed, his desires starting to make him unravel.

“Trust me...I'm pretty sure you'll like this part of my gift...” Picking up his sound system's remote from the nearby coffee table, Chloe clicked the play button.

The laser lights flared on in shades of silver and gold, and boisterous jazz, accompanied by sultry violin consumed his hearing, while Chloe ensnared each one of his remaining senses in turn until he was under her spell completely.

She mouthed along to the lyrics of the familiar Christmas jazz tune, covered by an artist he didn't recognize, hips swaying to the beat as she sauntered towards him.

_You're a mean one, / Mr. Grinch,_

_You really are a heel!_

_You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch..._

_You're a bad banana with a / greasy black peel!_

His Father, she was devious one, and he should know...

She danced around him, rose perfume slowly filling his nostrils and drowning him in her scent. She movements subtle and seductive, nothing like the over-to-top act his dancers put on. This was an honest, personal seduction, based on teasing touches and slow body and hip rolls, not fast twerking and flexibility.

She had him enraptured in moments, pressing their bodies flush together, only to swiftly spin away. Brushing her fingers down his shoulders, lips a tantalizing breath apart. Then she'd smile and leave whispering impressions of her touch on his cheek instead.

Chloe wrapped her leg around him like a tango dancer, only to flounce away cheekily, rump bouncing provocatively in the skin-tight wrap dress as she danced out of reach. He pursued her, dogged and yearning. In reward, she stopped and let him catch her. She kissed down his neck, back pressed to his chest as he clutched her hips, her sexy, pert rear rubbing up against his arousal and making him short of breath. Just as quickly, she was gone again, pushing his hands away every time he reached for her.

...Then she grabbed the bow at her hip and began to pull. The silky red fabric fell away like gossamer, revealing her toned stomach and the naughty jut of her hips, yet leaving her breasts and nether region perfectly concealed, as if by a strapless bra and tiny skirt.

“Detective, you are truly wicked!” he growled desirously. Determined to catch her now, he managed to trap her up against one of his bookcases, ravishing her neck and wine-sweetened lips with kisses. Then she shocked him again, hooking her leg over his hip and grinding up against him, the friction delicious, and providing Chloe just the distraction she needed to slip from his grasp.

_You're a monster, / Mr. Grinch,_

_Your heart's an empty hole!_

_Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch..._

He managed to catch up to her just as she leapt up onto the piano, kicking off her boots. She slid out of reach, standing up on his precious baby, bold as brass. Lucifer was a breath away from ordering her to climb down from there when she untied another length of ribbon, his words shriveling up on his tongue. She spun as it felt away, revealing her golden, gorgeous breasts to him, nipples rosy and perky even in the toasty penthouse.

She was quick to clamber down, eager to continue her perusal of him. She mussed his hair, ran her hands down his chest as she dropped to the floor, affording him a lovely view of her bare chest, and lustfully worried bottom lip. As she rose, she impishly squeezed his cheeks with both hands, making him yelp in surprise. It was only her twirl around him, her hand snaking around to his front, and her gentle massage of his aching arousal that stayed his words of complaint.

Heat pooled, heavy, insistent, molten in his gut. At this rate, she was going to be the death of him before the song ended.

Chloe danced backward up the steps to his bedroom, rolling her hips and running her hands up and down her sides and over the breasts he longed to squeeze and fondle. He stripped in a frenzy, ripping off his scarf, tossing his jacket into some dark corner beyond the bar, ripping the seams of his sweater. By the time they reached his bed, he was bare from the waist up, and he'd managed to kick off his winter boots.

He seized his Detective by the waist, and this time he was dead-set on not letting her go. He devoured her mouth, hot and heavy, intent on inhaling her, on swallowing this perfect, gorgeous woman. Chloe moaned in his arms, fighting against him for the briefest moment, before she caved to desire, and carded through his hair as she kissed him fiercely back. Her breasts pressed against his chest was an impossibly sweet, right sensation, on top of hitching his desires higher still from feeling her nipples pebble against his heated chest. He palmed the warm, supple mounds of flesh, groaning at the contact, and at the goosebumps that broke out on Chloe's skin. His change to pinching and kneading her nipples shook her from her stupor, and made the Detective slap a hand over Lucifer's mouth to still his kisses. He whined, but she smiled sympathetically.

Swift and dexterous, she undid his belt for him, then hopped onto the bed, skipping back out of reach, fingers already reaching for the last knot on her ribbon ensemble. Lucifer dropped trow faster than he ever had in his life, kicking his slacks and boxers and socks far, far away.

Once he had, Chloe tugged on the load-bearing ribbon, and what little remained fell away, revealing a small, neat, thatch of dark curls, mouth-watering, luscious hips and thighs, and the intoxicating scent of feminine desire.

She crooked her finger at him, and the Devil needed no more prompting.

He leapt onto the bed, pulled her flush with him and kissed every inch of bare skin he could reach. The jazzy cover of “You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” finished with a flourish of violins. At the same moment, Lucifer and Chloe fell to sheets, clutching each other tight, set on sharing the same breath, the same body, the same heartbeat, the same rapture, as many times as they could bear.


	6. Simply Meant to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But after the show, the late night mood sweetens,  
> And Luci reveals why he changed his mind about the whole season  
> “I came to this city in search of something – I see now, that search is done,  
> “You've brought an end to my loneliness. Chloe, I love you. You are the one.”  
> Though at first, she is shocked, a Detective rendered speechless  
> She gathers her courage, and slowly, she speaks it

Hours later, when they were both exhausted and in perfect bliss, they lay together, skin cooling thanks to their shared shower.

Neither had much felt like dressing again, though.

“This has been, without question, the _best_ Christmas I've ever had...” Lucifer murmured. Chloe smacked his (stupidly perfectly) right pectoral. He chortled, in spite of the slight sting.

“Detective – I'm being serious! And no, it is not solely because of the amazing night we just shared!” Chloe scoffed, smiling.

“Well, then, do tell! I find it hard to believe that a night of ordinary sex could get _the Devil_ to change his whole stance on Christmas!”

“...I believe the word you were attempting to say was _extra_ ordinary, Chloe,” he purred, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She flushed. Perfectly.

“That's sweet of you, Lucifer, but, I mean, you've had hundreds of partners in your lifetime. I'm sure you don't-”

“Chloe, my darling, I _do. not. lie._ I trust you'll believe me when I tell you this once. None of those hundreds, or maybe even thousands of sexual partners, could _possibly_ compare to you. In all my years of experience...there's something that has never happened until you, love...”

Wonder had rendered her breathless.

“Yes?”

“And the answer...actually answers the Christmas question and this one in much the same way,” Lucifer said, with a smile that made his eyes beam. “You were the difference, Chloe. Hearing how you see the holiday, seeing how how awful you felt when you thought the best part of it was cancelled, and how happy my gift made you...it's really opened my eyes to the lovely things about the holiday. Generosity, togetherness, bringing joy to others...” She smiled encouragingly, and he cupped her face in adoration.

“Thank you for tolerating me while I learned that for myself.” The Detective snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Just, keep the Christmas sex jokes to a minimum next year? Maybe?”

“I'll make on honest effort, Detective, but I make no promises.” She groaned, loudly.

“Why do I put up with you again?” And the bastard was _snickering_.

“Because for some impossible, glorious, wonderful reason, you love me!”

“Yeah, that's it...” she griped, though an echo of a smile still graced her lips.

Suddenly, the mood shifted. Though the change was slight, Chloe noticed it in Lucifer's averted gaze, in how he licked his lips nervously.

“Frankly, Chloe, whether we're talking colleagues...or partners, or even lovers...there's never going to be anyone that can hold a candle to you...” She visibly melted, and the sight sent butterflies rioting in his stomach.

“Lucifer...” she murmured, cuddling closer, eyes bright and doting.

“Let me finish, love,” he breathed, catching her off guard. But she gave him an encouraging nod.

“...When I came to Earth must recently – my last vacation, as it were, in 2015 – I came here looking for something. I hadn't the foggiest idea of what it was or why I was even looking at first, but over time, and with heaping helpings of assistance from Dr. Linda,” Chloe's smile quirked higher “I finally pieced it together.”

“I was searching for a purpose. Sure, as the Devil, I had a _job_. But a career and a purpose are two entirely different things, especially when one is forced upon you without giving you any say in the matter. I did well in my role, but when it came to purpose, I had none. I was rudderless, but that was easy enough to ignore when had every distraction I could ever possibly want to cover up the ache. Still, a part of me kept searching – for something that made sense, something I could cling to...something to give my existence a spot of brightness that had been missing ever since my Fall.

“And then...then I found you. And since then, everything has descended into utter chaos.” Chloe laughed affectionately, right along with him. “But _after_ all that, once the rubble was cleared, the pieces reordered, and the facts assembled, the scene became clear. I knew exactly what it meant. And, though if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't have vanished for six months, that distance served a purpose too. It helped me realize exactly what I wanted, needed, to say to you.”

He reached between their bodies and clasped her hands, firm and tender.

“My purpose is to live and work and be, with _you_. You're the one, Chloe Decker. And...I love you.”

The Detective's eyes grew round, startled. Her breaths came out in strong huffs. Eventually, the puffs turned into gasps, which turned into giggles, and then full-on belly laughs.

She kissed him, smile melting against his mouth, and he clutched the back of her head in elation, kissing her back.

“Lucifer – I love you!” she exclaimed between chortles. “You infuriating, crazy Devil, I adore you!” She showered him with kisses, covering every inch of his face, tickling him mercilessly with her swift pecks. She fell back against the sheets and cuddled as close to him as she could, burying her face in the crook of his neck, palms pressed to his back.

“Chloe...” Lucifer purred, nuzzling her neck, and making her jump and chortle with delight.

“When you were gone...I didn't dare hope...” the Detective murmured a bit sadly against his neck, the sound of her words warming his ear. “It would've been too painful to hold out hope that you might come back. Because I had been so sure by the time you left, every part of me had made up its mind...I felt in my bones that you were the one for me...” He kissed her neck, worshipping her, thanking her. She hummed in elation, even as she pressed on.

“But I was too scared to acknowledge that with you gone, with no way of knowing if you'd come back.”

“And...now?” the Devil asked, trying his luck. She pressed a doting kiss to his cheek, warmth flooding his body like a dam had been ruptured, and bliss set free to cascade over the ridge.

“Now, I know you belong right here, with me. As my partner in everything. Who else is going to work so well with me and drive me so crazy?” He grinned.

“Nobody. We're too perfect of a match.”

“Meant to be, are we?” she said, teasing a little, even as she felt ecstatic, nerves humming with glee.

“Soul-mates, Detective. By choice, because that's just what we desire to be.” The noise that rumbled up from her chest was somewhere between a moan and a purr.

“Does my 'soul-mate' desire another round as much as I do?”

“ _Absolutely, Detective_. We haven't had sex nearly enough times for our gift exchange to be considered equal.” Lust pooled heavy and thick in her center at that. His sultry kiss against her pulse point didn't hurt either.

“Hmmm...” she chuckled, sitting up and straddling his hips, soaking in the sight of his gorgeous, lust-darkened mahogany eyes, reserved for her alone.

“Guess you're not such a Grinch after all...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary Cont:
> 
> “I didn't give myself hope that you'd return, that you'd love me the same,  
> “Dreaming without knowing just gave me far too much pain.  
> “But now that you're back, it's all become clear.  
> “I love you so much, and you belong right here.”  
> “For, it is plain,” the Devil heartily agreed,  
> “We're a perfect match. We're simply meant to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and critiques are greatly appreciated!


End file.
